Talk Is Cheap
by Brian1911
Summary: A mistake in potions leads to Harry being unable to speak. In his inhibited state, Harry investigates his mysterious condition and his own complicated feelings towards Draco Malfoy. Eighth Year. EWE. HP/DM
1. Bubble Bubble

**AN: **Hey, this is my first fanfic so bear with me as I get into the habit of writing. This is an Eighth Year fic and contains Slash.

**Disclaimer: **JK Rowling obviously owns everything to do with HP, and I'm just a lowly student who wanted to write something.

**Chapter One**

**'Bubble Bubble'**

* * *

Harry sighed as he stared at the expanse of parchment before him, idly scribbling a note or two every few minutes, if for no reason but to seem interested in the lecture that Professor Slughorn was booming his way through at the front of the room. He allowed himself a glance around the room, noticing that the only other two students who seemed to be as disinterested in paying attention were Malfoy, sitting at a desk to his right and two rows in front, and Hermione who sat to his left.

This did not surprise him in the slightest; as the two top students in Potions, they both had clearly already studied the subject of today's lesson and were merely biding time until the practical portion of the lesson. Harry sighed again and looked back down at his parchment.

Hermione shifted slightly beside him and glanced furtively in his direction, then followed the direction of his eyes, frowning as she saw the barren parchment. Harry smiled ever-so-slightly, bemusedly wondering if she would ever believe in his renewed interest in his schoolwork that had blossomed following his return to Hogwarts.

She had been understandably shocked and more than a little doubtful when he had revealed his plan to study hard and make his last year of school count for something. Though she and Ron had shared skeptic glances, she had pledged her full support for Harry "finally taking his studies seriously", as she had put it. Harry was secretly glad that they had not asked what had caused this sudden inspiration, and grateful that they knew to refrain from doing so.

With this knowledge, it was clear she thought Harry was currently failing spectacularly in his scholastic determination. Though he couldn't blame her, as she could not know that he had studied the topic of Spell Enduing Potions a few days beforehand. How would she, what with being embroiled in her own independent study of the subject and warding off Ron's continued begin that she help him complete his Transfiguration problems the night before they were due.

Harry chuckled to himself slightly at the mental image of Ron on the ground of the Gryffindor common room, beseeching Hermione in his best grovelling pose. She had, of course relented, but not before allowing him to ramble on for five minutes, the corners of her mouth quirked upwards.

Harry's attention was suddenly piqued by the pale blond head that belonged to Malfoy, watching as it drooped slowly onto his right shoulder. He bit his lip and laughed inwardly, marvelling as he had many times in the past few months at how much the Slytherin boy had changed. It seemed the events of the war had served to dilute some of the boy's more grating habits and humanise him in some ways. The old Malfoy would have never let his guard down enough to fall asleep in the middle of class. No, the old Malfoy would have sat, stock-still and rigid, throwing an occasional barb towards Harry.

Nowadays, that animosity had seemed to fade away completely to something of a mutual agreement to stay out of each other's way. Harry was happy for this, mostly because he had become tired of the childish rivalry that neither had ever seemed to be able to put to bed. He had wanted to go into this 'new era' (as McGonagall had dubbed it at the start of year feast) with as little pettiness and anger from the past as was possible. He was surprised to hear that the other boy had returned to complete his studies, though in the spirit of letting go, had relented that the other boy had deserved it as much as the rest of them.

He still couldn't find it within him to like the blond at all though, he wasn't trading in miracles after all. Though he had found that endless amusement was wrought from seeing Malfoy in a more relaxed and altogether less sneering manner than he had been in previous years.

As if on cue, Slughorn's booming voice called an end to the lecture portion of the lesson and Malfoy's head jerked upright from its position on his shoulder and he blearily attempted to regain his composure as he began removing items from his bag. Harry snorted softly before copying his actions, waiting for Slughorn's instruction.

"Alright students, you will each choose a partner, with whom you will be attempting to make a Spell Enduing Potion. Once you are in your groups, I will assign each of you a different spell, the effects of which you will attempt to endue in your partner upon the completion of the potion."

He smiled slyly before continuing, "I will not be telling you the ingredient that will be needed for your specific spell, of course, which shall be good practice, I hope, for your N.E.W.T.s at the end of the year."

Everyone in the class seemed to understand the unsubtle hint clearly and glanced nervously at each other at the reminder of their final exams.

"Well, off you go then," said Slughorn and the class burst into a smatter of activity as everyone in the class scrambled to get the partner they wanted.

Harry moved slowly, unconcerned as he glanced at Ron in question. Ron grinned sheepishly in return, shrugging his shoulders in a 'what can you do' manner and gesturing to Hermione who was eagerly setting up her cauldron already. Harry smiled and rolled his eyes amusedly in response; as if Ron hadn't manoeuvred their partnership in advance by sitting as close to her as possible. Harry looked around the room for his other Gryffindor friends, finding that Seamus and Dean and Neville and Parvati had already partnered up. Finding no luck elsewhere, he turned his eyes to the only other person who hadn't found someone.

Malfoy's eyes were scanning the room as well, and as they met Harry's, he seemed to come to the same conclusion that Harry had. He turned haughtily towards the front of the room, staring resolutely at the chalkboard at the front of the room. Harry, resigned to his fate, took this for the invitation that it was and made his way over to Malfoy's desk, dumping his potions supplies unceremoniously on the desk. He began to pull out items as Malfoy switched between watching his movements and following Slughorn as he gave each pair their individual spell.

"We should start cutting up the mandrake root now, or we'll never leave class on time." Harry said absently, placing a jar of lacewing flies and the roots in question on the bench in front of him.

Malfoy jerked his head towards Harry, furrowing his brow as he watched Harry.

"Funny Potter, I had expected to be taking the lead, given your… less than admirable skills in the subject." Malfoy's voice was filled not with snide elitism but simple confusion at Harry's actions.

"I happen to _like _potions now, Malfoy, and I find that I'm much better at things when I want to do them… 'm still rubbish at Arithmancy though."

Malfoy seemed surprised. "_You're _taking Arithmancy?"

"You don't have to seem so surprised, you know. Besides, like I said, I'm terrible at it."

"And you're good at potions?" He replied skeptically.

"Well, to be honest, I haven't had many opportunities to practice the theory, but I've been enjoying studying that, so I figured…" He trailed off

"Hmm…" Malfoy still seemed doubtful, but the fact that he was now conversing with Harry apparently caught up with him and he snapped his mouth shut, staring forward again in aloof detachment.

Harry rolled his eyes at the display, but waited patiently for Slughorn to amble over to them, preparing the ingredients patiently.

Finally, Professor Slughorn reached their table, his mouth stretching into a wide smile.

"Ah, boys, last but not least." He looked towards Harry. "Good to see you've gotten a head start, m'boy, had quite a bit of trouble with Parkinson over there over her spell… though I bet anyone who'd gotten the _Bat-Bogey Hex _would react the same way." He added conspiratorially, with a wink.

Harry smiled politely and he heard Malfoy chuckle slightly beside him.

"Let's see, boys…" He consulted a small sheet of parchment in his hand, his finger trailing down a list of spells. " Ah, _Silencio_, relatively simple method but with a deceptively obvious final ingredient. You can begin the potion and work on solving the ingredient as you go."

Malfoy finally began to work on the potion as Slughorn left them pulling half of the ingredients towards him to prepare them.

Harry tapped his chin in thought. "Deceptively obvious… well, I'd say boomslang skin, as its used in both the muffling potion and the sleeping draught, which are both inhibitors. Or maybe that's _too _obvious, as I doubt the solution would be lifted directly from a potion with silencing effects. Although he did say _deceptively_ obvious… whatever the hell that means. Doxy eggs? They're used in Veritaserum, which opens the mind… could it have the opposite effect in a different potion? I don't know. That'd be pretty deceitful, I guess and - what?"

Harry cut himself off at the look Malfoy was giving him. He flushed as he realised he had been rambling his thought process and was sure to be mocked for it. But Malfoy just stared at him inscrutably.

"What?" He repeated self-consciously.

"Nothing." He didn't expand on that, so Harry continued ruminating on the possibilities of their assignment, this time in his head.

He thought for a few moments as they worked on the potion before the continued stare of his partner could no longer be ignored.

"_What?_"

"Nothing." Malfoy at least had the decency to be embarrassed for staring this time and he turned his concentration back to his work.

"Doxy eggs," came the response to his earlier ramblings ,after a few minutes of silence. "Used both in Veritaserum and the muffling draught, two potions with opposite effects. Could be the deceptive part."

Glad that the blond was at leat being helpful, Harry nodded his agreement and set about preparing the ingredient of interest.

"Here… i'll stir clockwise while you add the eggs then you'll have to quickly add the lacewing flies." Malfoy took the proffered eggs and held them over the cauldron, waiting while Harry stirred anti-clockwise three times then switched to clockwise.

"Now." He instructed Malfoy, who followed his direction promptly. As soon as the eggs hit the surface of the thick liquid, it turned from a dull green colour to a deep midnight blue. As it changed colour, the concoction began to boil and bubble up the edges of the cauldron.

Malfoy made a small noise of alarm at the frothing liquid. "Don't worry," Harry barked, "just quickly add the lacewing flies!"

Malfoy hesitated a moment too long for Harry's liking. In a lightning fast movement, he stopped stirring the liquid, wrenched the flies from Malfoy's hands, dumped them in the potion and immediately returned to stirring the concoction.

This proved to be difficult, however, as the potion was now bubbling more than ever, changing to a furious red as it did so. Both boys backed up as the liquid began to hiss and spit molten droplets at them.

"What's happening!?" Malfoy shouted over the noise originating from the cauldron, attracting the attention of the rest of the students in the class.

"I don't know!" Harry shouted back, grasping wildly around him in panic, his hand gripping Malfoy's forearm. It had been awhile since a potion he was making had screwed up so royally. Malfoy distractedly tried to shake him off.

"Calm down boys, we'll have to cast a spell to contain the-" The rest of Slughorn's sentence was cut off as he walked towards them, arms raised. With a low boom and unnatural force, the unstable potion burst forth from the potion and inexplicably headed straight towards Harry and Malfoy.

Stricken with fear, both boys could do nothing as the burning liquid drenched them both. Any reaction to the pain was immediately cut off as both boys fell to the floor immediately, unconscious to the world.

Harry awoke with a groan, a sharp pain throbbing behind his eyes. Pain seemed to be the only sensation he was capable of feeling at that moment, as it shot through his nerves and pinched at his skin which was sore and tender.

With some difficulty, he recognised the white sheets of his bed and tall, arched ceiling of the hospital wing as he opened his eyes and he groaned at the familiarity of it all. Or, at least, he tried to - something seemed to be blocking his voice at the back of his throat.

He lurched himself into a seated position staring around at the dark infirmary. The lights were out, the soft light of dawn casting a blue glow on the beds. A soft rustling noise came from one of the beds to his left and he tried to peer through the darkness at the figure occupying it. Without his glasses, which didn't seem to be around him, he couldn't make out much more than a huddled mass.

"Hello?" He tried to whisper into the darkness, but his stomach flipped as he realised that once again, his words wouldn't come out of his mouth. With a growing sense of foreboding, Harry cleared his throat and again tried to yell out for someone, politeness be damned.

Again, some kind of wall in his throat forbade any sound from escaping and Harry screamed soundlessly in frustration and trepidation.

He gasped for breath as the gravity of his silence dawned on him. Any attempt to call out was barred by a non-existent wall in his throat. He couldn't speak. He couldn't make a sound.


	2. Toil and Trouble

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, and I stake no claim in her work.

**Chapter Two**

**'Toil and Trouble'**

* * *

Draco Malfoy was never a peaceful sleeper. During his childhood, he was under the watchful eye of his overbearing father 24/7, which caused an influx of anxiety that had kept him up at night. At the height of the war, when Voldemort had taken up permanent residence in his home, this anxiety expanded to an all-encompassing fear. As such, most of Draco's nights involved experiencing an unconscious demonstration of one of his many inner fears. So it was no surprise that night that he once again experienced the recurring dream that had plagued his nights since the defeat of Voldemort.

A vast expanse of water spread out before him, the surface of the ocean violently interrupted by the perpetual crash of waves against the cliff he stood atop. Dark grey clouds above him signalled an imminent storm, rain threatening to burst from the heavens at any moment.

He stood facing the ocean until he came to the conclusion that there was no escape. No boat to take him away; no reprieve from the thrashing waves below.

As he did every night, he slowly turned, his gut twisting as he prepared himself for the vision of what was behind him. A tall, seemingly endless expanse of dark stone wall spread out in every direction, interrupted about thirty feet to his right by a large arched doorway. Draco recognised the place immediately. He had only been there once before in his fifth year, but the feeling of the place was enough to burn it into his memory forever.

Azkaban prison, a place surrounded completely by a body of water that stretched for miles away from the island on which the stone building was situated. A place that Draco knew he was unable to escape from.

Panicked, Draco whirled on the spot, staring wide-eyed around him, desperately seeking reprieve from the overbearing institution and the increasingly savage waves below him. The water edged further up the cliff face with each pulse, accelerating in pace until finally -

Draco was jerked from his sleep by a loud crash on his right and he blinked groggily as he peered into the dark room that he recognised to be the hospital wing. Ignoring his own confusion at his surroundings, he jumped from his bed and ran towards the source of the noise. A couple of beds over he found someone - Potter? - doubled over on his mattress, hyperventilating. Careful to avoids shards of glass on the floor belonging to a wayward vase that Potter must have knocked to the floor in his panicked state, Draco moved forwards and tentatively touched Potter's shoulder.

Potter jerked backwards at the touch, scrambling for his wand before obviously realising the blurry form in front of him to be Draco. Wide, green eyes stared back at the blond, who found his own anxiety levels rising at the state of the boy in front of him.

It took a second for Draco to realise that Potter was mouthing something to him and was glancing from Draco to somewhere within the darkness of the hospital wing. Realisation dawned on Draco, who promptly left the boy's side and bounded across the floor to Madam Pomfrey's quarters. Pounding on the door, Draco called out for the healer, who was at the door in an instant.

He cut her off before she could speak, "It's Potter, he's awake and having some kind of panic attack."

Without asking questions, Pomfrey pushed past Draco, towards Potter, stopping to collect a potion from a cabinet along the way. Draco followed her to her position beside the bed, wringing his hands uselessly. Without hesitation, she tipped the boy's head back an forced him to drink the concoction, soothing him with soft words as she did so.

Within moments, Potter was sinking back into his mattress with hooded eyelids, slowly falling into a peaceful slumber once again. Satisfied that he was fully asleep, Pomfrey began to perform spells to check his vitals, Draco watching as his nerves too began to ease.

Without looking up, Pomfrey spoke, more to herself than to Draco, "We didn't expect him to wake up so soon, must have given him a right shock, I'd say. He should be out until morning now."

A few minutes passed before she acknowledged her other charge, "You'd better go back to sleep too. Thank you for your quick thinking."

"What was happening to him?"

"Everything will be explained in the morning. To both of you."

"But-"

"In the morning." She responded firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Draco sighed and nodded. He headed back to his own bed, eyeing the prone form of the sleeping boy along the way. Satisfied that the students would be okay until morning, Pomfrey made her way to her quarters, replacing the empty potions vial on the cupboard shelf.

Try as he might to fall back to sleep, Draco found himself lying awake for awhile after that, only falling asleep to the soothing pulse of his roommate's breathing. Even with the reprieve that sleep wrought, his jangled nerves wouldn't calm down. He never was a very peaceful sleeper.

* * *

When Harry awoke the next day, he felt considerably better than he had in the middle of the night. The pain that had greeted him before had softened into a dull ache and the soft winter morning light made him exponentially more relaxed. Remembering the realisation that had caused his panic attack in the middle of the night, his stomach jolted before a soft voice interrupted his train of thought.

"Morning." Hermione sat by his bedside perusing a thick, leather-bound book in her hands. Harry felt his burgeoning tension ebb away at the sight of his best friend and he drank in her calming presence.

"Don't worry," she began when he opened his mouth to reply, only to remember that he couldn't, "McGonagall and Slughorn will be hear soon to explain everything."

Harry nodded, not quite reassured, and gave a questioning look towards the book in her lap.

Looking down, Hermione seemed to understand his query and responded, "I've been up all night looking for an answer to your… problem. I haven't been able to find _anything_."

She sighed, exasperated, and Harry laid a comforting hand on her arm. He looked around him and, finding a piece of parchment and quill on the table beside his bed clearly meant for this purpose, wrote her a message.

_Thank you. But now who's the one that's worrying? I'm sure Slughorn will sort this out, whatever…this is. _Hermione read the note and bit her lip uncomfortably, which confused Harry. Nonetheless, she smiled warmly back at her friend before turning back to her book.

They sat like this for a while, a comfortable silence between them, Harry's forced upon him. Suddenly remembering who had came to his aid the night before, Harry looked around the room, only to find all of the other beds in the infirmary to be empty. Harry was about to question Hermione on Malfoy's whereabouts when the oak doors of the hospital wing were swept open, admitting Professors McGonagall and Slughorn, with Madam Pomfrey and Ron in tow behind them.

They ambled over to Harry's bed, the normally jovial Potions master looking uncharacteristically grim. Ron glanced at Hermione and frowned slightly, who in turn looked at Harry with a defeated look in her eyes.

Harry's attention shifted away from his friends as Slughorn began to speak.

"Well, Harry, m'boy," he began, with none of his usual pep, "as I'm sure you've realised by now, the potion which you and Mr. Malfoy were brewing reacted badly with the introduction of one or more of the ingredients. Now, I've already questioned Mr. Malfoy and he tells me that the ingredient chosen to replicate the effects of the silencing spell was Doxy eggs. While this ingredient should have adequately met the requirements of the task, it appears that something occurred in the brewing process to produce unwanted effects."

Confused, Harry picked up his parchment and began to write a message. Despite his own anxiety the previous night, which he now recognised as an overreaction due to the unexpectedness of his state, he didn't understand the somber tone that had overtaken the room. _If the spell did what it was supposed to, then why am I here? What were the unexpected effects?_

The occupants of the room shifted uncomfortably and Slughorn seemed to take a moment to find the right words to respond.

"The potion's effects are intended to be temporary, unlike some of the spells that they replicate that depend upon the instruction of the caster to cancel them. The base potion that all of the students began with was never intended to last for more than a few hours at most. Some - such as Miss Parkinson's Bat-Bogey Hex - lasted longer than others, but they nonetheless wore off eventually. In your case, the potion's effects have yet to fade after almost twenty-four hours."

Suppressing his surprise at how long he had been out, Harry latched onto another part of Slughorn's explanation. _And Malfoy? Is he still affected?_

Slughorn's eyebrows furrowed as he responded, "Mr. Malfoy… has not exhibited the effects of the potion. Which is most unusual, of course, as he was hit by almost as much of the potion as you were."

Harry's mouth dropped open in disbelief. Malfoy was unaffected?

"I am conducting tests on what remains of the potion, of course, to determine what has caused this anomaly, and why you were the sole victim of its intended effect."

_And where is he now?_

"Where is… who - Mr. Malfoy? He stayed here in the infirmary overnight to be treated for his burns, after which he was released. I will be working with the both of you to examine the potion, so that we can resolve your condition. It is likely that the answer lies in contact and intention of the potion maker. As we've discussed in class, your individual magical signatures often determine the specific outcome of a potion. We will first have to determine which of you played part in each aspect of the potion."

_What do you need from me?_

McGonagall spoke up for the first time, answering his question, "For the moment, you need to rest so that we can perform more tests. Madam Pomfrey thinks that you shall be adequately healed by tomorrow so that we can begin. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger will help you with your school duties and your teachers have been informed of your condition. Upon your dismissal from the infirmary, we will have to work around your condition. Should it not wear off within the next few days, of course." She finished uncertainly.

Harry cast his eyes downwards and stared at his hands, linked together in his lap.

"Do not fear, Mr. Potter," she said with a small smile. "You have certainly faced worse than this."

The next few hours passed by in a blur, as the adults dispersed and Harry was left with his friends. His mood picked up considerably as he watched them bicker about some inane thing that couples bicker about, the somber tone of the meeting made way for a reluctant acceptance of his fate for the time being. In fact, with the comfort of his company, Harry began to think that the situation maybe wasn't so bad. For the moment, it seemed to be temporary, albeit indefinitely so. And if he were forced to admit it, Harry would relent that not having to speak, to answer to the constant barrage of adulation that followed him constantly might even be a relaxing change of pace.

By the time his friends had left, and night had fallen, Harry found himself feeling at ease once again, the knowledge of his condition no longer causing him any anxiety. He settled into his bed, and despite the large amount of sleep he had had, the excitement of the past few days finally got to him and he drifted into a soft slumber.

_'…potion…something wrong…Potter…'_

The voice was barely a whisper, but it nonetheless pierced through the stillness of the night. Harry's eyes jerked open and he looked around the room, illuminated in a soft yellow glow by the dying candle on his bedside that he had failed to extinguish.

_'…failed…try again…'_

Harry's search of the infirmary came up empty, but Harry already knew why. The voice wasn't coming from the shadows of the hospital wing. It originated from the corners of his mind.

**AN: **I know it's pretty short, but chapters should get longer as we go along. Also, I may be taking a few liberties with potion details but they are necessary! Thanks for reading, B.


	3. Head Start

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing related to Harry Potter.

**Chapter Three**

**'Head Start'**

* * *

The next morning, Draco wandered through the halls of Hogwarts towards the infirmary in a somewhat dazed state. The night had once again allowed his recurring dream to visit him in his sleep, however this time it had been slightly different. Once he had turned to face the obtrusive presence of Azkaban, he had suddenly found himself surrounded by thick brush and enormous tree trunks, a dark, silent forest replacing the stormy seaside cliff.

As he neared the thick wooden doors bearing entrance to the hospital wing, he was shaken from his reverie by what seemed to be quite a ferocious argument taking place within. He paused, unsure whether he should enter.

"Professor, you know Harry doesn't want this to happen… he's had quite enough of people intruding into his affairs, after all."

"Miss Granger, you know as well as I that Harry's condition may require an expert pair of eyes. We simply do not have enough knowledge at our disposal to sufficiently deal with this." Came Professor Slughorn's stern reply.

"'Expert pair of eyes'? Sounds more like you want Harry to be treated like some sort of lab experiment." Draco repressed his shock at Granger's uncharacteristically insubordinate tone and waited for Slughorn's reply. Why did he want experts to examine Potter? And why wasn't the boy speaking up for himself?

"Of course not," the professor's reply seemed softer. "But if you want to help him, we may need to accept whatever help we can find."

Deciding that now was as good a time as any to interrupt this conversation, Draco pushed open the large oak doors and strode into the wing.

Five pairs of eyes snapped to him as he walked in, and he forced himself not to step back in surprise. Granger and Weasley were sat beside Potter's bedside, staring defiantly up at Slughorn, who stood at the end of the bed. Madame Pomfrey stood off to the side, seeming torn between protesting the disruption to her patient's rest and staying out of the argument. The boy in question just looked lost and, Draco noticed after looking closely at him, more than a little worse for wear.

Slughorn broke the silence that had overtaken the room for a few seconds. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy, here for your checkup?" Draco nodded. "Well…this pertains to you as well, so you may as well join us."

"I'm sorry," Weasley interrupted, flabbergasted. "What does any of this have to do with _him_?"

Bristling at the insinuation that he was unimportant, Draco responded condescendingly, "Well, Weasley, considering I happened to be in the line of fire of the same potion that put your Golden Boy in that hospital bed, I'm sure whatever this conversation is about has everything to do with me. In fact, I'm fairly certain that I have more right to be here than you." Draco was certain of no such thing, as he wasn't even aware of what they had been talking about. However, he was not going to let Weasley insult him.

"Mr. Malfoy is right, he is here for a reason. Pomona, why don't you begin the checkup and then we can compare the boys' conditions," Slughorn said diplomatically. Pomfrey bustled over to Draco, who smirked triumphantly at a red-faced Weasley.

"But Professor, we know that the gi- _Malfoy _wasn't affected. What are tests going to tell us?"

"We can try and determine the specific reasons that Mr. Potter was affected while Mr. Malfoy was not. This may prove useful in finding a solution that will remedy Mr. Potter's condition."

Directed by Pomfrey, Draco raised his right arm forward. The seasoned mediwitch performed some kind of examination spell while Draco's attention was on the conversation about Potter. He bemusedly gazed at the bedridden boy, who seemed perfectly fine, give or take a good night of sleep.

"But you said yourself that this could have been by chance or some random freak occurrence. Surely this won't tell us anything of use."

"All the more reason to go through with it and be sure. I assure you, working together on this is not the end of the world, Mr. Weasley."

Annoyed at being talked about while he was right there, Draco piped up snidely, "Yeah, Weasley, you can't catch Death Eater, you know."

The room became dead silent at his words. Intending it as a joke, Draco almost apologised for his facetiousness but his pride and insecurity got the better of him. Potter, who had remained curiously silent throughout this whole ordeal, spoke up, surprising Draco.

_'You'd know, wouldn't you?'_

"Yes, Potter. Despite your grandstanding to the ministry of magic about my innocence, we both know that I took the mark willingly." His response was purposefully bored and sardonic, hiding the emotions bubbling within him. Annoyed that he had somehow shifted the conversation towards his affiliation during the war, Draco failed at first to notice the reaction to his words.

If it were not completely befuddling to Draco himself, the blond would have found the matching expressions of confusion on each of their faces highly amusing. Potter's expression was shocked and completely mystified, the boy staring at Draco as if he had grown an extra head.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Draco jumped slightly when Granger broke the silence that had again gripped the occupants of the room.

"Why did you say that to Harry?" Her tone was equal parts demanding and inquisitive.

"Because, Granger, despite everyone else's insistence on allowing the Golden Boy to do and say what he pleases, I reserve the right to respond when somebody insults me."

"Insults…?" she trailed off. "He hasn't said a word. He can't, in fact."

At this, Draco looked at each of their faces in turn, waiting for the punchline. He turned back to Potter who, frustratingly, was still staring at him in that completely dumbfounded way.

* * *

Harry couldn't stop staring at Malfoy. He had responded to Harry. No, he had responded to Harry's _thoughts. _Harry didn't know how he had done it. The comment had been an offhand reaction to Draco's inappropriate joke, but he hadn't intended for the blond to actually _hear_ him. In fact, he had no clue how the boy actually had heard him.

He hadn't felt the intrusion into his mind that usually came with Legilimency and, by the look on his face as he stared back at Harry, Malfoy seemed to have no idea that what he had heard had been Harry's thought.

Malfoy spoke slowly when responding to Hermione, as one would speak to a small child.

"Granger, I have no clue what you're talking about. Potter, what does she mean? Did she hit her head or something."

"Malfoy, he can't-"

Harry snapped out of his astonishment, interrupting Hermione and grabbing her arm to get her attention. Hermione looked back at Harry questioningly, who grabbed his parchment and quill from their spot on his bedside table. Malfoy watched Harry as he wrote, looking increasingly confused with every second that passed.

_He heard my thoughts. _Harry supposed he should have been a bit more detailed about what had happened, but figured there was no sense beating around the bush. Besides, he wasn't even sure of what had happened

Nonetheless, Hermione's eyes widened as she finally understood the implication of Malfoy's confused rambling and her head whipped comically between him and Harry.

Malfoy watched her with perplexed eyes, apparently deciding that he was tired of being ill-informed.

"Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on. What was in that little love note of yours."

Ron's eyes whipped to the parchment, which under any other circumstance would have highly amused Harry, and when he read what Harry had written, copied Hermione's action almost exactly.

Harry, decided not to show Malfoy the note but try a different method of communication. After all, he figure he should probably test to make sure that he was right about his pronouncement of Malfoy's telepathic ability not being just some random freak occurrence. Or a brain haemorrhage.

_'Can you hear me?' _he projected the thought at Malfoy with as much concentration as he could muster, not entirely sure that his method was exactly how he should do this.

"What? Potter - of course I can hear you." Malfoy was clearly growing frustrated.

_'What does my voice sound like?'_

"Like you, Potter. Annoying and dimwitted, as per usual. What's with the twenty questions, anyway? That obsessed with the sound of your own voice?"

_'Malfoy, look at my mouth.' _Malfoy raised an eyebrow at the suggestion.

"Potter, I know we shared a mutual personal tragedy with that potions explosion," he began sarcastically. "But I hardly think that's-"

_'Look. At. My. Mouth.' _Malfoy rolled his eye but complied when Harry spoke - or thought, rather - again.

_'What do you hear.' _Malfoy eyes widened dramatically as he watched Harry's frozen mouth and heard the thoughts projected to him at the same time.

"You- you're… in my head." He stared at Harry in disbelief as he caught on to the implication of Harry's words, suddenly clutching his head as if to protect it from the intruding thoughts.

Slughorn and Pomfrey, who had watched the seemingly one-sided conversation, their heads volleying between the boys, finally caught on to what was happening.

"Merlin's beard…" muttered Slughorn, eyes unfocused deep in thought. "The potion must have affected both of you… Doxy eggs are used for the muffling draught and Veritaserum… you must have each been affected by the ingredient differently… but that's highly implausible, if not impossible."

Harry barely paid attention to Slughorn's muttered ramblings, eyes still focused on the one person in the world who could hear him. Suddenly, the voice in his head from the previous night entered his mind and he was on the verge of asking Malfoy what he knew of that, then remembered that he had not told anyone in the room of that in fear of being told he was crazy. The voice had kept him up the previous night, memories of Voldemort invading his mind swimming around his heads.

"We can't know for sure how this link was even formed… or how strong it is. It isn't exactly a common side effect of any potion." A sudden thought seemed to strike Slughorn. "Mr. Malfoy, if you would please go to Headmistress McGonagall's office and inform her that we require her presence. And…" He reached into his coat pocket. "Here."

He had drawn what looked to be a flat chocolate bar with smooth, rounded edges, which appeared to be made from solid gold.

"A Cochleagram, a new invention from the Ministry. You point your wand at it, say what you wish to message the holder of its pair." He pulled an identical gold bar from his trouser pocket. "They will then receive the message on their own device. A new cautionary measure, you see, given the lack of appropriate communication channels and the trouble that caused during the war.

"Take this to the Headmistress' office and send a message to us when you have arrived. Harry will attempt to send you a message telepathically, and you will inform us whether you successfully received his thought."

Malfoy, who still seemed dazed by the revelation that his former sworn enemy had a connection into his mind, asked distractedly, "But… why do you want us to do this?"

"We must test this connection for its strength first before we even think about attempting to rid you boys of it. Unfortunately, this has made our predicament a whole lot more complicated."

After this, Malfoy did not hesitate to leave the room for the Headmistress' office, eager to leave the bewildered students and staff behind.

The rest of them waited patiently for Malfoy' message on the Cochleagram, which arrived after five minutes. The words 'I'm here' formed suddenly, etched onto the smooth gold surface in thin cursive writing.

Slughorn looked at Harry expectantly, who understood the silent instruction immediately.

Feeling a bit sillier than he had when the boy was actually in the room, Harry focus all of his brain power on sending Malfoy the message. _'Can you hear me now?'_

Harry nodded at Slughorn, who moved to point his wand at the Cochleagram. Before he could send a message back, however, more words appeared on the shining slate. 'Tell Potter I heard him perfectly.'

Harry groaned inwardly and Slughorn furrowed his brow, muttering "stronger than I'd imagined" as he did. Harry's friends looked at him sympathetically, and Ron tried to reassure Harry.

"Look on the bright side, mate, at least the git can't hear every single one of your thoughts, right?" Far from being reassured, Harry nodded sullenly and pulled at his hair, exasperated.

The group waited for some time before Malfoy returned to the infirmary with McGonagall in tow, who was looking questioningly at everyone in the room.

"What is it, Horace? I've had quite a bit of trouble with few first years who do not seem to understand the meaning of the name 'Forbidden Forest'. As if that place wasn't enticing enough to the young ones, now these rumours of creatures milling about at the perimeter; I'm afraid soon we'll have to ward it off entirely."

Slughorn nodded impatiently at McGonagall, quickly rushing to explain the update to Harry's condition, with help from Hermione and Madame Pomfrey.

Malfoy had been pointedly looking away from Harry since he had re-entered the room, though he knew full well that Harry didn't need eye contact to speak to him telepathically. Harry tried more than once to catch his gaze, if only to escape the frustration the blond boy's avoidance caused.

McGonagall looked aghast by the end of their explanation of what they knew, deep in thought about their next move.

"I think… our most pertinent course of action is to discover the cause of this incident, if we have any hope of rectifying the mistake that brought this about. Miss Granger, we will need your assistance on researching the Potions theory behind this phenomenon. As for you two -" she gestured to both Harry and Malfoy in turn. "You would be wise to attempt to work together in order to control and harness this newfound connection. It may prove useful in helping Mr. Potter overcome the limitations of his mutism."

Harry very much doubted that any part of his life would be made easier by working with Malfoy but did not dispute the Professor.

Madame Pomfrey cleared her throat, sensing that the conversation was drawing to a close. "If there is no more to be done today, I must request that my patient be left to rest if he has any hope of being discharged tomorrow."

"Very well, Pomona. Miss Granger, if you will follow Horace and I to my office to discuss our plan of action."

Hermione jumped out of her seat and Ron followed her movements, clearly intending to tag along despite his lack of invitation. Seizing an opportunity to clear up something that had been bothering him, Harry focused on sending a thought towards Malfoy.

_'Malfoy, wait. I need to talk to you.' _Malfoy, not used to being addressed in this manner yet, twitched and nodded his acquiescence.

Harry's friends noticed this small movement and paused in the doorway, looking curiously between Malfoy and Harry. Harry nodded his reassurance and Hermione grabbed hold of Ron's shirt and dragged him through the doors into the hallway.

Suddenly finding himself alone with Malfoy, Harry wrung his hand as an awkward silence settled over them. Malfoy waited patiently for Harry to speak, while the latter began to regret stopping the blond from leaving.

_'Look, this isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my final year here. A mute… only being able to talk, er, think at you.' _Malfoy raised an eyebrow as if to say 'me neither'. _'Well first, I think McGonagall's right. I mean we should at least try to work together in this. Like you said, you're as much a part of this as me.'_

Malfoy no longer seemed to want to agree so strongly with the words repeated back to him, despite them being his own, but voiced his agreement anyway.

"True, Potter. I don't want you in my head just as much as you clearly don't want to be in there," he sighed. "So if it means ending this ordeal as soon as possible, then fine. I'll work with you."

Harry nodded his satisfaction and hesitated before continuing with the real reason he had held Malfoy back.

_'This connection thing… you don't think it… goes both ways, do you?' _Malfoy gazed back inquiringly. _'It's just that… last night, I thought I heard a voice. You know, in my head? Well, with what we found out today, I thought maybe… were you thinking about me last night?'_

Malfoy scoffed and smirked back at Harry, opening his mouth to reply.

_'No!' _Harry interrupted him. '_Not like that. I heard… the voice, it said my name. That it had failed at something, something it wanted to try again.'_

Malfoy looked at Harry thoughtfully before responding, "I _was _thinking about you, Potter. About our accident. But I assure you, I have no current failed plans I could be thinking about, and certainly nothing I would repeat again."

Harry was disappointed, but for reasons not entirely clear to him. He wasn't sure he was expecting Malfoy to be the owner of the voice. It hadn't even sounded like him, faint as it was. No, it was the idea of some unknown force being able to penetrate his mind that did not sit well with him, especially not with all that he had experienced in the past few years. Malfoy was decidedly the lesser of two evils. He tried to reason that he wasn't even sure what he had heard had been real, but he had a niggling feeling that this was simply his own denial.

Seeing that their conversation was over, Malfoy made a noncommittal noise of farewell before moving to leave the room.

Before he could leave, Harry called out in his mind before he could stop himself, _'Thank you.'_

"For what?" Malfoy's back was still turned.

Harry, not completely sure himself, responded, '_For being… not a complete jerk about this.' _

Malfoy did not respond, standing tensely for a few moments before walking briskly out of the hospital wing, the doors swinging shut behind him.

**AN: **Thanks for reading!


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